


Mana Restoration

by purplekitte



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dubious Consent, Multi, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplekitte/pseuds/purplekitte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven short Master/Servant snippets for Fate/Zero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mana Restoration

**Author's Note:**

> Because according to Carnival Phantasm Gilgamesh has a fetish for being bossed around by Goth loli maid waitresses. That is a thing now.

Rider was loud and boisterous in whatever he did. Waver had bruises from all the times he’d been slapped on the back to get him to lighten up, just because he hadn’t been as excited about Rider’s new mail-order video game as he was.

Rider had once dismissed his reason for joining the Holy Grail War, but even if Waver knew it sounded stupid, the only way of being worthy of being his vassal was to risk his life for that goal. He had responsibilities as a Master to support his Servant, even if it meant dealing with Rider not knowing his own strength.

What he was not expecting was for Rider to touch him softly and gently. Rider made love to him like they had all day, running callused fingertips over his body. His beard tickled.

Waver was enveloped in strong arms, pressed against a broad chest. There was no place for merely tolerating sex of such sheer physical intimacy. He was being held by someone who would always protect him.

“I’m not made of glass, you know,” he snapped. And Rider laughed, a low rumbling in his chest, and oh…

* * *

Irisiviel always came to bed with them. It was practical, Saber knew, with most of the participants in the War believing her to be the Master.

Saber would have preferred the most business-like mana transfer, honestly, and she suspected Kiritsugu would have as well. Irisiviel, on the other hand, turned her sunny enthusiasm to everything she did, even if it was seeing her husband with another woman.

Saber squirmed with Irisiviel’s tongue on her breast, circling the curves of it teasingly. Her hands were on Kiritsugu and Saber saw him almost relax, almost smile fondly at his wife. She was the one who didn’t belong here.

* * *

His Master’s betrothed rubbed against him enthusiastically, practically purring.

Lancer hade no desire to see her like this, like a cat in heat, but he had been ordered.

His Master’s betrothed touched him greedily, straddling him and touching him everywhere she could reach.

Lancer closed his eyes and thought of Ireland.

* * *

Sex with Berserker was nothing. Kariya lived with the pain of a broken body everyday, felt the insects crawling under his skin and eating.

Berserker acted confused at first, if anything, but he could not control himself in anything he did. Kariya endured.

He would see this through. He would see the end of his family line. For her.

* * *

It was awkward between Tokiomi and Archer because neither of them would yield. They fought, leaving scratches and bites on each other’s skin, snarling and wrestling whenever they touched.

Aoi would have shook her head, he was sure, but she deferred to him in everything and she wasn’t here on his order. Archer… he would not spend a Command Spell on this, as Archer did not take advantage of the Noble Phantasms that were his as a Servant.

He complained to Kotomine at some point about his pig-headed Servant and he did not know what his student said to Archer, but to him he said, “Does one yield if there is no fight?”

Archer moved against him languidly, his mouth tasting of sharp, bitter wine. Tokiomi knew the legends that spoke of the king cutting a swathe through the maidens of the first city. Certainly he was experienced enough, and it was all Tokiomi could do to seem as relaxed as he was, to catch the little noises he wanted to make at the back of his throat.

They moved against each other without affection, only hedonistic lust for its own sake, for the power it granted. Their partner could have been anyone, and they each took their pleasure for themselves.

Archer sighed as he came and slept in a shameless, debauched sprawl. Even here his regality shone through: look at me, I care not what you think when I am beautiful and virile.

There had been a name on Archer’s lips, too quiet to acknowledge. Enkidu. Tokiomi hadn’t thought of Aoi the whole time.

* * *

Ryuunosuke liked to touch. He left not bloody handprints on his robe but finger paintings, the drying blood hardly visible on the dark fabric. A tree there, a wavy sun, a tentacled monster.

He laughed as he put an arm around Caster’s shoulder, he laughed as he brought another victim home.

Ryuunosuke looked up at him with shining eyes, on his knees before him. Caster imagined slicing him open as he nuzzled against his crotch. There would be no fear, no look of betrayal there. Caster could imagine him laughing even as he screamed as Caster introduced his flesh to every delicious torture he had used on his victims. He shuddered as Ryuunosuke licked down his length.

That kill would not satisfy him like this. Someone who understood. There would be no flash of hope, no belief he had almost escaped. Ryuunosuke had seen the coolest thing in the world and could die happy now. He would never try to escape.

* * *

Kirei was an empty man.

His bed was a hard cot. His priestly vows mattered little to him, because everything mattered little to him. He merely did what he was doing at the moment.

Assassin sent him an empty body to store mana, as he was ordered. Kirei was silent the whole time, as though his body’s physical reactions had no effect on him.

Kirei was an empty man.


End file.
